It was the start of something maybe big, maybe inspiring. Or perhaps something sad and deflating. It’s still too soon to tell.

Any given moment may have appeared “old” here on this day. Young fans running to greet the team buses at Beaver Stadium’s south tunnel to catch a glimpse of the players. Homages to Joe Paterno—none more striking than the cardboard cutouts of the man—at tailgates in every parking lot. The streak of blue and white as the Nittany Lions rushed the field. For hours on end, chants of “We are!” met eagerly with replies of “Penn State!”

But so much more was new about this surreal scene in Happy Valley, where the Nittany Lions took the field for the first time since Paterno’s death and, of course, since the Jerry Sandusky sex-abuse scandal that rocked this part of the world to its core.

A new, school-wide motto—“One team”—that brought some 600 Penn State student-athletes onto the field, all dressed alike, to help welcome their football brethren.

Also new: a loss in a home opener for PSU. That hadn’t happened since 2001.

That year, it was Miami that stole the Nittany Lions’ thunder. No, not the Miami that hails from MAC country. The Miami from Florida, which went on to win the national championship.

This time, it was Ohio that took down PSU, by a score of 24-14. No, not Ohio State. Just the Bobcats from the MAC, who are led by former Nebraska coach Frank Solich.

The Bobcats are really moving up in the world. They won 10 games and got their first-ever bowl victory last season. Now they’ve knocked off a traditional Big Ten power. They’re dancing in the streets of Athens, Ohio.

But—with apologies to the winners—that’s not why the national media were here. They came to State College to witness an event that was more than a game, certainly much more than a routine September matchup of the Big Ten vs. the MAC.

The biggest story in college football Saturday afternoon was the bummer of a beginning to a new chapter in Penn State football. Come to think of it, that’s not really accurate at all. The biggest story was the beginning itself, marked by the simple act of a team playing football, and of its fans supporting, celebrating—rejoicing in—that act.

But there wasn’t a dewy eye in the house, not among the Nittany Lions, after a loss that had to sting, given the swell of intense feelings they’d brought into the game. Given the misplaced anger directed toward this team—these players, these coaches—and the absolute loyalty displayed by so many leading players in the program to stay right here rather than pursue their football goals elsewhere.

O’Brien had to be crushed. But he stared out at scores of cameras and notepads and did his very best Bill Belichick, “Yes.” and “No.” ranking among the more interesting of his curt answers.

The players likewise tried to be stoic.

“A loss is a loss,” McGloin said.

And that’s true. A loss here, after all this community has endured, is so far from the end of the world, there’s no sense in belaboring it for even one postgame story.

“We’ll keep playing football,” said guard John Urschel, “and try to show the country—show the world—that Penn State’s a great place.”

If the players were upset afterward, they didn’t show it. And it may be that they just plain weren’t. They were happy to be playing football again, no doubt. And happy to be doing it together.

Though no one said the words, there was a clear sense of: better to lose here than win someplace else.

“Those are my brothers in that locker room over there,” said linebacker Mike Hull.

It is indeed “one team.”

It happens to be disingenuous and silly to zoom out very far with that stirring but simplistic motto. Fact: There are many folks in Pennsylvania, in Centre County, in State College—on the PSU campus, too—whose feelings toward the school, and toward football, are complex and conflicted.

And there’s nothing easy for anybody about getting on with football after a far more terrible and damaging scandal than ever could’ve been imagined here or at any school.

Among the 600 student-athletes who greeted the football team was sophomore fencer Seth Levine. On a plane bound for State College the day before the game, Levine’s father, Sheldon, a 53-year-old PSU alum and 25-year season-ticket holder, expressed love for the team and his alma mater as well as deep frustration.

Levine, a Scranton native who met his wife at PSU and has lived here since, brought his cardboard cutout of Paterno to his tailgate on Saturday. Stuffed lions sat atop his truck, which was parked next to the two spaces belonging to the family of Levine’s boss, PSU Board of Trustees member Joel Myers.

Think the board is “one team”? It’s not. The board is in tremendous conflict, with one faction choosing to accept the massive NCAA sanctions and move on, and another faction—including Myers—that prefers to fight.

“They are not on board with moving forward,” said Daniel Myers, who is Joel Myers’ son and the owner of StateCollege.com.

There’s a new season, a new coach, a new motto and, for many, a new attitude, but the previous chapter is far from over.

Or maybe a better way to say it: This new chapter isn’t only about football games and rah-rah spirit. It’s about NCAA penalties—no bowls, fewer scholarships, a $60 million fine—and the inevitable stream of lawsuits from victims of the monster Sandusky.

It’s about a community’s relationship with a team that isn’t very good right now and might, in the months and years to come, get worse.

It’s complicated.

With a minute and a half left to play and Ohio preparing to punt the ball back to the Nittany Lions, Beaver Stadium had been evacuated by perhaps 50,000 white- and blue-clad fans.